This Dark Heart
by Tarawr
Summary: Shortly after being arrested, Walter has a therapy session with Kaufmann.


Michael Kaufmann sifted through a tidy pile of notes stacked on his desk. His schedule wasn't quite as full as it usually was, but the session that he had come to dread over the last few days was approaching quickly.

The man peered at his clock. Approaching in ten minutes, to be exact.

He took a deep breath and pulled a scotch glass out from the top drawer of his desk, along with a mostly-drained bottle of scotch. He was most certainly going to need it.

Kaufmann poured the amber liquid into the glass, and downed half the contents. He closed his eyes as it burned his throat and savored the way that it gradually warmed his chest.

He leaned back in his chair, holding up the quite extensive file on Walter Sullivan. It consisted of his crimes, evaluations that previous therapists had given him, and some background history.

Kaufmann had been told, in far more polite ways, that the guy was a mental case, and exhibited everything from clinical depression to gynophobia. Walter also exhibited one of the wildest cases of schizophrenia on record. It had been said by his past doctors that Walter would appear happy or neutral one moment, then he would go into a period of frightened silence and nod at odd intervals, as if he were communicating with an unseen figure.

Kaufmann downed the rest of his scotch and tucked everything away in his desk.

Just as he was preparing to give himself a hefty helping of reassurance that he could tackle this case with no problems, his secretary came over the intercom.

"Mr. Kaufmann, your eight-thirty is here," She said.

He paused for a moment, and shrugged to himself. So much for the pep talk.

"Send him in," Kaufmann said, plastering on a casual look.

The door opened a few moments later, and in walked a tall man with long blond hair led by a guard. Another guard was visible in the hallway, arms crossed and stone-faced.

The blond man took a seat on the couch across from Kaufmann, and the guard went out into the hallway to join the other, closing the door behind him.

Kaufmann quietly observed Walter for a few seconds. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He had unsettling green eyes, but was an all-around handsome man. Kaufmann noticed that his hands were bound in front of him by handcuffs.

Walter patiently stared back at Kaufmann with the strangest smirk, completely motionless.

Kaufmann blinked the uneasiness he felt away and smiled. "Hello, Walter. How are you today?"

"I'm well," Walter said calmly. "And you, sir?"

"Can't complain," he shifted his weight in his seat and leaned over his desk, crossing his arms to rest on the polished wooden surface. "Ready to get started?"

Walter's grin widened and he jerked his head to the side. "Ready if you are."

"Good… how about we start out with something simple. Tell me about your childhood."

Walter laughed. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself and paused for a moment. "Are you familiar with an orphanage called Wish House?"

_Well, that explains it_, Kaufmann thought to himself. He had rarely seen a normal person come out of the orphanage.

"Yes," Kaufmann said with a nod. "I'm familiar with the establishment."

"Well," Walter went on. "I grew up there. Left when I was about eighteen."

"Oh? And then what?"

"I joined the university in Pleasant River."

"I understand that you went for the medical field. You were working on becoming a surgeon. One of the best students to come out of the school." Kaufmann leaned back in his chair. "You really could have helped people, Walter. What happened to that?"

"Mother needed me…" Walter lowered his head as a grin spread over his face. He stared at his bound hands. "Mother still needs me."

Kaufmann's expression hardened. This is mainly what he had been warned about, and what he had been dreading – Walter's wild delusions of his 'Mother.'

"But you never met your true mother, Walter. Who are you speaking of?"

Walter looked across the room at him and smiled, remaining defiantly quiet. Kaufmann waited until he decided that Walter wasn't going to go any further on the matter. He moved onto another question that some demented part of him wanted to hear all about.

"Can we discuss the Locane twins?"

That got Walter's attention. He looked at Kaufmann with an indecipherable expression; completely neutral. "What about them?"

"Just…" Kaufmann made gestures with his right hand and leaned forward over his desk. "Just anything you would like to say about it. Uh… like, your purpose for doing it, for example…"

Walter continued staring at him with that unreadable expression in complete silence.

Kaufmann cleared his throat. "There _was_ a purpose, wasn't there?"

Walter furrowed his brow as if in deep thought. He adapted a melancholy countenance and his eyes glazed over, like he was at a completely different place in his mind. He slowly brought his hand to his own chest, right over his heart, and held it there calmly.

"Seven-eight… Mother needed them…"

Kaufmann squinted at Sullivan, like he was trying to remember something. He nodded after a moment. "The Ten Hearts, correct? That's what you called it?"

Walter put his bound hands in his lap and clasped them together. "Yes. And they're finally all done." His sadness seemingly dissipated, and he donned a smile. This look of nearly-total relief came over him. "The second half can finally begin."

"What does the second half consist of, Walter?" Kaufmann asked, his palms beginning to sweat. The Order had warped this man's mind beyond all repair – that much was obvious.

Walter joyfully counted off the numbers on his fingers. "Eleven, Assumption. Twelve, Void. Thirteen is Darkness and fourteen is Gloom. Fifteen-"

"Walter!" Kaufmann held up a hand for him to stop, feeling as though he would lose the man if he allowed him to continue his nonsensical rant. He rubbed his temples in exasperation and began looking through Walter's notes, and they both became silent. Kaufmann sighed as he chose a paper to go over. "How about we talk about what happened in college, hm? About the girl that went missing? Says here that her name was Cassandra Keaton, but you probably knew her as Cassie. That right?"

Kaufmann looked back up at Walter to see that his face had totally changed. His entire aura felt different. The cocky, calm demeanor that he had not ten seconds ago had evaporated entirely, and it was like Walter was a completely different person. Now the young man looked distraught beyond comprehension; almost vulnerable. Although Walter was avoiding direct eye contact with the psychologist, Kaufmann could see tears beginning to form in his green eyes.

"What happened to Cassie, Walter?" Kaufmann calmly asked.

Walter shook his head and was visibly attempting to hold his tears back. One trailed down his face. "_I_ had nothing to do with it…"

The way he put the emphasis in his words, it was like he knew something, but there was something in his words that made Kaufmann know for a fact that Walter didn't have a part in her disappearance or anything that might have happened after.

After all, Walter hadn't denied the ten previous murders. Why the hell would he deny an eleventh, especially with this much passion?

Kaufmann looked at the paper and nodded. According to police records, upon his initial interrogation, Sullivan had reacted roughly the same way that he had just now. When Cassandra was brought up, it was basically the only time he conveyed any significant emotion.

At least there was still some semblance of humanity left in him. This was good. It meant Kaufmann could potentially reach him.

"You cared about Cassie very much, didn't you, Walter?"

Still avoiding eye contact, Walter practically whispered. "Yes. But there's another person that I care about even more." He was silent for a moment and clenched his large hands into loose fists on his lap. Walter looked up at Kaufmann. "But she has to die. Twenty…"

Kaufmann felt his heart sink at Sullivan's words. Maybe he truly was unreachable. Still, Kaufmann had a job to do.

"What did this person do to make you care for her?"

Walter grinned happily. He was quiet for a moment. "It was a really cold day. I was at South Ashfield Station, and… this little girl notices me. She was with her mother. Suddenly, the little girl slips her away from her mother and comes over to me before her mother can stop her…" Walter clasped his hands together and adapted a faraway look in his eyes. "She reached into her bag and she pulls out this little doll, and holds it out to me. Kind of like she knew me from somewhere, or she just didn't care if she knew me or not, because when you're that age, it doesn't matter if you know a person or not. You don't know the ridiculous custom of needing to know a person to be kind to them. The girl placed the doll next to me..."

Both of the men were silent for almost a full minute. Walter was reliving that day, judging by the vacant look in his eyes, and Kaufmann was fascinated by listening to his words and watching his expressions.

"I had heard of random acts of kindness, but nobody had ever done one for me until that day," Walter calmly said with a kind of sad fondness. "That was the first time in my life I had felt true happiness. That little girl had done the act of a mother. I don't know if she knows how much she touched me that day. She made me think that maybe things could be different, and I wouldn't have to kill anyone…"

Kaufmann remained silent, and kept his eyes on Walter. This was obviously a focal point for this man, and it got him talking. Talking was a good thing.

"I saw her a week before I was arrested," Sullivan continued, sounding almost happy. "She was at the same station, alone. I guess she's too old to hold her mother's hand now. She's much older now. Practically a woman. I didn't talk to her, though – just watched her. I still see a great amount of kindness in her eyes…"

Kaufmann was almost at a loss for words, despite his extensive training. What could he say to that? He looked up at the clock on the wall. The session was nearly over, so he hurried along to a point of interest.

"Walter?" Kaufmann asked. "We're just about done here for the day, and I'm interested in how you did all of these murders without leaving any evidence. Could you please tell me that before we depart?"

Walter took a deep breath, sat up very straight in his seat and smiled. It was like he was a different person once more – cocky, calm and calculating. Almost evil. "He does it all for me. I'm just the vessel."

The way Sullivan said it made Kaufmann most uncomfortable. He stared at Walter in a stupor of silence, and Walter stared right back.

A knock came at the door a few seconds later.

"Come in," Kaufmann said just loud enough to be heard through the thick mahogany door.

Walter stood up as soon as the guard stepped in, and he was led out of the large room. Kaufmann was still in a silent stupor, and he felt like he wouldn't be able to completely shake it for the remainder of the day.

He had trudged through that session much better than he had originally thought he would, but still… there was a creepiness about Sullivan that couldn't be easily washed away. The look in his eyes alone, even if he was in good spirits, was enough to make Kaufmann's stomach clench up.

The psychologist couldn't help but feel that the entire session had been a waste somehow. Sullivan was beyond crazy. Because of some crazy ritual, he honestly felt that he had to kill an innocent woman that was just trying to show him kindness. And the most fucked-up thing was that she probably didn't even remember doing it.

He believed that by killing all of the people that he killed in the past, and was hoping to kill in the future, he could reawaken his 'Mother.' He had killed two innocent children for his cause and had barely seemed to be bothered by it.

Kaufmann looked at his calendar. He had to repeat this whole mess in another week.

With a sigh, he opened his desk drawer. He was going to have to get a lot more scotch if he was going to make it through the week.

**Author's Note**: Cassandra Keaton is an original character in another one of my stories, titled "Reprieve." It's not necessary to read this story to know what happened to her, though. I'm leaving it up to the readers to decide what happened to her. At least for now. Who knows? Maybe I'll pick back up on it at a later date.


End file.
